Firelight Reflections
by Ashayavar
Summary: Kirk is decorating for the holidays while reflecting on his life with Spock. K/S. Dangerously fluffy.


**Warning**: Exposure to excessive amounts of fluff may result in squeeing, flailing, or melting into a happy puddle. Read at your own risk.  
**Disclaimer:** I've put "Star Trek and all of its characters (especially Kirk and Spock)" on my Christmas list this year, but as of yet I do not own them. Dang.

**AN: **This was written for Insane Journal's Advent Drabbles, Prompt 5: Christmas baubles. I also thought it was time to write something from Kirk's POV, since all I've written is Spock so far. Honest feedback is appreciated.

Firelight Reflections

A multi-colored glow emanated from the old-fashioned Christmas lights wrapped around the large tree which took up a sizable portion of the San Francisco apartment. A cardboard box sitting off to one side was slowly emptying as Jim hung its contents on the green branches. He was taking a ridiculously long time, he knew. But Spock was late, and he had hoped that they'd be able to perform the ritual together. At the same time, it was already Christmas Eve. If he didn't put them up now, it wasn't going to happen this year. And, thought Kirk as he bent to pick out another ornament and his joints protested, there was no telling exactly how many more years they'd get together. He pushed the notion out of his mind; it had no place there on Christmas Eve. And he wasn't _that_ old yet. He shifted his attention to the ornament in his hand.

It was a simple sphere, made of glass, and the very first ornament Kirk had ever given to Spock. Some time after the beginning of their five-year mission- long enough for the two to become friends, though before they had become lovers- Spock divulged that his mother had been quite fond of collecting Christmas tree ornaments. The holiday was obviously not celebrated on Vulcan, and so remained mostly absent in their household. And yet every year his mother would order a real tree from Earth and decorate it. During his younger years, Spock would help. Others often said that it was an illogical tradition, but Sarek never tried to dissuade her from the practice. "It would be illogical to deny my wife the human traditions with which she was raised," he'd counter.

And so her ornament collection had continued to grow. Since Christmas decorations were in short supply on Vulcan, she made her own, attaching loops to various knick-knacks so that they could hang from the tree. And though it might have appeared so, the ornaments weren't random; each represented a specific person or event in her life. "It's like a timeline," she told Spock when he questioned her about this. "Each and every one holds memories for me. This tree is like a collage of my life; I look at it and I remember everything that's important to me." At this she took from the tree an intricately carved wooden figure of a mother and child that Sarek had given to her the Christmas after Spock was born. Spock had asked why she did not simply keep a journal. Amanda smiled and told him that humans were just sentimental that way. She folded her son's hands around the precious ornament. He still did not understand, but perhaps it was something about the motherly affection he felt through her touch that compelled him to accept the gift.

Like the rest of her possessions, the ornament collection had been destroyed in Nero's attack. Spock had admitted- to himself and, later, to Jim- that he regretted their loss, as well as the missing the opportunity to ask his mother what each one had meant. All that remained was the one Amanda had passed to him, the figure of the mother and child that he had kept with him throughout his years in Starfleet. At that moment, Jim resolved to help Spock start a new collection. That same year, on Christmas day, the Captain had handed Spock a small, wrapped present. Inside was a simple, glass ornament. Kirk explained that some of the earliest Earth Christmas ornaments had been made of glass; it was a perfect way to represent a new beginning. All Spock had been able to say at the time was, "Thank you, Jim." It was the first time he had used Kirk's name without being instructed to do so.

Jim smiled at the memory as he placed the translucent orb on the tree directly in front of one of the lights so that it glowed green. The wooden mother and child hung beside it. The next ornament he retrieved from the box was another wooden figure of a more alien design. Kirk had bought it during his first visit to the colony on Vulcan II. The added loop had been attached a bit messily, Jim never having been one for arts-and-crafts, but it got the job done. He hung it so that the lights made it glow red, like the Vulcan sky.

The next was a small snow globe, which Spock had given to him on their first Christmas in San Francisco. It was the cheap, plastic sort that one could buy in any novelty shop, but Jim thought it was sweet nonetheless. The base read: "James", a name Spock only ever called him when they were being intimate. He hung it beside a snow globe that Kirk had ordered custom-made the next year, which read, "Spock".

Others had given them ornaments as well, when they'd heard that the two were collecting. Uhura had given to them (well, given to Spock, but Jim liked to think it was meant for both of them) a small replica of a traditional African mask. From Scotty they'd received a hand-painted glass angel from Scotland, and from Sulu, Kirk's long-time fencing partner, a figure brandishing a foil. Chekov gave them a Russian flag. McCoy, who was never one to go overboard with the sappy gift-giving, gave them a simple, blue sphere with the words "Merry Christmas" written in silver glitter. It was enough.

At this point, he pulled out one of his favorites: a flat, oval wood carving that Spock had done himself and given to Jim on the day they became bondmates. Elegant designs twisted across its face, giving way to a single word set in the center: "T'hy'la". Kirk sat down and spent some time simply looking at the piece, running his fingers across the carvings and remembering the fear he'd experienced when he realized he was harboring more-than-friendly feelings for his first officer, the bewildered joy when he discovered that they were reciprocated. He remembered the passion, the thrilling _newness_ of the relationship, and the desperation to take advantage of each and every moment, never knowing when duty might separate them. Jim remembered that passion slowly changing, transforming into something enduring, unbreakable. He remembered the day they bonded, the day they found the missing part of themselves.

At this moment, the subject of Jim's thoughts walked through the front door, bringing with him a gust of chilled air and some stray snowflakes, which melted upon hitting the warm carpet. Kirk smiled as Spock removed his jacket and shoes and joined his bondmate on the sofa. Jim leaned in for a brief welcome-home kiss.

"I apologize for the delay, T'hy'la," Spock said, still formal as ever, and yet at the same time he snaked an arm around the other's waist and his eyes were warm. "It was not my intention to keep you waiting."

"It's okay," said Jim, "I know you're busy. I'm afraid I had to start decorating the tree without you, though." He indicated the ornament in his hands, and the two of them gazed at it for a long moment, Kirk still trailing his thumb across the dark letters. After a moment, he stood and placed it on the tree, then looked into the box.

There was only one ornament remaining, and Kirk saved the best for last every year. He bent and pulled out a shining, silver replica of the _Enterprise_. It had been a gift from Spock the year he retired, a reminder of the best and most significant years of their lives. Kirk watched the firelight glimmer off of its perfect metallic surface, throwing the minute details into relief. His beloved ship. It was there that fate had brought the two of them together, where they had established their working relationship, then friendship, and, finally, where they had become lovers. It was on the _Enterprise_ that they met the people and lived the experiences which shaped their lives forever. Jim wouldn't have changed a thing.

He looped the ornament on a high branch. It was big enough to catch the glow from two of the lights, which reflected blue and gold off of its polished surface. He returned to the sofa and leaned against Spock's chest as the Vulcan wrapped his arms around him. The two silently admired Jim's handiwork, lost in the memories of many long and satisfying years together. And for now, it didn't matter that Kirk was growing older while Spock still had nearly half of his life remaining. They didn't grieve for the years that had passed, for those close to them whom they had lost. Tonight, there was no sorrow; there was only the warm glow of the fire and a deep sense of contentment as they basked in old memories. Jim snuggled closer to the Vulcan beside him, entwining their fingers together and reveling in the utter closeness. Tonight, there was love.


End file.
